I feel as though we've gotten off to the wrong start here. I really don't know what I did to you that you felt the need to make me the protagonist of a book that is this bad. I mean... it isn't "bad." Not "bad" in the sense that you have no creativity for plot or sense of dynamic characters (or I wouldn't be writing you this letter now, am I right?) I just mean... I really don't want to be an alocholic clown. It doesn't seem fair that all of my family members in this book are either lawyers or private detectives who lead adventurous lives that I just seem to stumble into and make a mess of. I don't know who your target audience is here, buddy, but I'm telling you: they aren't going to laugh at this. Because really now, I don't want to do this anymore. I've picked up a bunch of pamphlets for vet schools in Hawaii. I think we should get the story going over there. You know, the sandy beaches and the girls in bikinis would really help improve readership. I could be an ex-clown vet who solves crimes with my loyal companion, Wayne. Oh yeah, did I tell you I adopted a dog? I guess you didn't notice while you were writing me into AA meetings where elderly women hit on me... but yeah, Wayne is a cool little Chihuahua. He's only got three legs (please, don't think I'm inviting you to write him into one of my clown acts here) but he's got a lot of spunk so I really think he'd make a great sidekick. Anyways, that's all I really wanted to say. So yeah, to summarize this letter for you (because I know you're a big important Real World Writer and all):
1) Please change my career from clown to vet or vet student,
2) Let's give Wayne a chance to be my sidekick, and
3) Let's move this story over to Hawaii, maybe even give me a girlfriend whose name isn't another word for laughter.
Boo Boo the Clown (for now!)